


I say Hi, you say Hey

by phrynne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Pining, Poetry, Post-War, Short One Shot, Shyness, Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynne/pseuds/phrynne
Summary: Two letters.One syllable.I don’t know when it starts to seem more.One day it just is.





	I say Hi, you say Hey

**Author's Note:**

> Something that came up from my own difficulty in saying Hi to someone I want to. So instead of doing that, I wrote this.  
> And it became a reflection on the power of words and the mistery of getting to know another person.  
> Much better than face my shyness.
> 
> Disclaimer: of course the characters belong to JK Rowling and unfortunately I make no money out of my writing - I'm sad like that.

‘Hi.’

This is what I say every time I see you.

‘Hey.’

This is what you say back.

Everyday’s the same.

We cross paths way too often.

You’re always in a hurry somewhere.

Off to fight evil.

I’m always drowning in work.

Off to wear myself thin.

And every time there’s this exchange.

‘Hi,’ I say.

Quiet. Not too loud, not too fast. No taunt in my voice. So different from before.

Just me, acknowledging you.

‘Hey,’ you say.

Steady. Not a hint of provocation. No challenge in your eyes. So different from before.

Just you, acknowledging me.

First, it’s out of politeness.

We’ve grown out of the insults. They seem to belong to another life. A life where we hated each other.

The one where you were the hero.

And I was the coward.

‘Hi,’ I say. And I try not to remember that you spoke for me at the trials.

‘Hey,’ you say. And I refuse to bring to mind that you saved me. Twice.

I should be grateful.

Instead, I feel I owe you.

You are one step ahead of me, always.

And I’ll never catch up.

So I say Hi, because that’s what you’re supposed to say, when all else is said and done.

Your face turns to me.

You say Hey and you seem slightly surprised by your own answer.

I’m surprised too.

That you even speak to me, after all.

And from then on, it’s like this.

_I say Hi, you say Hey._

I don’t change to a Hello. You never say anything more.

We keep it simple: two letters for me, three for you.

Before long, it becomes routine.

‘Hi,’ it comes out of my mouth, almost absentmindedly.

‘Hey,’ you answer back in the same tone.

You’re gone in a split second. The same amount of time I take to forget you were even there.

‘Hi,’ I don’t even lift my head from the files.

But I know it’s you.

‘Hey,’ you say, and you don’t even look my way.

I work bureaucracy. It’s an exercise in organization. In thoroughness.

It gives me an endless purpose, a guarantee that every day will be the same - grey, uneventful, predictable. _Safe._ I’m really good at my job, like I never was in anything else. It makes me feel like I’m good at something, even if it’s something everyone hates.

It’s something you certainly hate.

You don’t have time for paperwork. And you can rest assured someone else will do it for you. No questions asked.

You stop at the office only to be assigned something else. Out on the field - that’s the only place you want to be. And of course you’re the best at your job. It’s what you were born to do.

So you come and go, and you only stay for a little while.

‘Hey,’ you say.

‘Hi,’ I reply.

And it’s only after you leave that I notice that you said it first, this time.

I don’t think too much on it.

I work extra hours. I don’t need the money, but I need _this._

You almost get yourself killed on a weekly basis. It’s nothing new.

I’ve tons of paperwork. I don’t mind that I’m always the last to leave.

I have nothing better to do. So I do my job.

And you do yours.

You show up in the mornings. I’m already there. Sometimes, I don’t even leave.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

You look like someone who hasn’t slept for months. Probably more.

I’m someone who hasn’t slept a full night since the War.

You always look tired before that first coffee. I already know how you take it. Black, two sugars. But I say Hi, you say Hey, and we leave it at that.

Months go by.

Two letters.

Three letters.

One syllable.

I don’t know when it starts to seem more.

One day it just is.

‘Hi.’

Your robes twirl around you. The Auror armour fits you like no other.

‘Hey.’

There’s a strained smile on your face.

I have the impression you hate it here. Inside these walls. You look like a man in a cage. But I was the one meant for Azkaban, not you.

And I’m the one who stays here. You’re the one with a life outside.

Sometimes there’s blood on your robes. One day you’re limping slightly. When you lift your sleeves there are new scars there.

I’m too busy to care.

My back is always bent over paperwork. My eyes hurt. The words drift in front of my eyes. I start wearing glasses. My brow furrows for hours on end. I have a headache that lasts a lifetime.

‘Hi.’

I’m exhausted.

‘Hey.’

You’re exhausted.

But I never ask how you’re doing.

You never ask me anything either.

But there’s a smile on your face. And I don’t get it.

I’ve been working late again.

My head is hurting, my back is stiff. I finally decide to call it a night.

As I’m leaving, there’s a gush of wind and I know before I see you.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

It sounds much worse in the dead silence. With nothing else to distract us from our own voices. Yours is a rasp. Mine slightly above a whisper. Both seem too loud.

But your eyes level with mine for a moment. You seem about to say something and a thousand possibilities arise in my mind. That second before someone is about to speak - and you actually want to know what they’ll say, - that second is precious.

It could be anything. Everything. And nothing at all.

It’s nothing at all.

You turn around.

I’m left there, standing.

In my head, a single thought: your eyes are way too green. I shake it off.

Every day is the same.

I sit with my back curved over the files, peering, searching, archiving. I smell paper, and ink and long hours.

You’re a gush of wind. Always running off somewhere. If you’re not fast enough someone might end up dead. And you don’t want that on you again. So you rush.

I sit there. I look at all the letters on a page, all the numbers. Everything becomes blurry.

This is what I do. Sit. Write. File. Repeat. Again. Again

This is what you do. Run. Fight. Try. Repeat. Again. Again.

You always come back.

And when you do, you’re there, saying Hey.

And I’m still there replying Hi, like I don’t care if you’ve lived another day.

You keep showing up. I keep thinking you have no reason to be there.

But I say Hi back to your Hey and go back to my files.

That time, I feel your hesitation before you leave.

I feel it on my back.

Your legs are stiff, you are standing by the doorway and you should be leaving - to danger or duty, probably both - but you’re not.

We can’t say Hi and Hey again, so I wonder what the hell you think you’re doing.

Then you leave.

And I don’t know what to make of it.

So I make nothing of it.

Even if I don’t say Hi to anyone else.

Even if I don’t hear you say Hey to anyone else.

For the others it’s good morning, or morning, or alright. But with you I only manage the single syllable.

‘Hi.’

I don’t know exactly when I start putting things I shouldn’t in that Hi.

‘Hi,’ I say.

But I’m really saying:

How I’ve slept badly again.

How the paperwork keeps piling up.

How you seem so tired.

How you never take a day off.

But then again, neither do I.

I say Hi.

You say Hey.

This probably says something about us.

Something about the different ways we stand in life.

Because I could never say Hey.

I don’t imagine you saying Hi.

I don’t know how it grows from there to something else.

Maybe the something else had been there all along. In that first Hi.

I wish you knew what it means to me.

I wish to know if it means anything at all to you.

But it’s impossible.

I cannot will a Hi to convey a thousand words I never said to you.

I cannot will your Hey to tell me everything I wished you told me.

But that’s exactly what I do.

I feel guilty because I’m the one who started this.

I’m the one who started to put more things inside a Hi - things that shouldn't be there in the first place.

No one wants to get a Hi that means: _I don’t know what to do anymore._

No one wants a Hi that might mean: _Today is not a good day._

But now that I started it, I can’t make it go back to what it was.

I can’t make the Hi sound just like a Hi anymore.

I don’t even remember what a Hi should mean.

I seem to have forgotten it.

As I’ve forgotten what a Hey means.

Because when you say it, I hear: _I can’t do this anymore._

Or: _I couldn’t save them this time._

And I don’t know what to say to you except Hi, _I’m sorry_.

But it doesn’t stop there.

You say Hey and you smile at me.

I say Hi and my lips want to stretch into something akin to a smile.

And it keeps happening.

One day I say Hi, but what I really mean is _you look good_. You always look good. Even if you look so tired. Which you always do.

So every time I say Hi, now I mean you look good. You look so fucking good.

You look like a dream.

And I can’t help myself.

I actually smile that one time.

You say Hey, and your eyes drift from mine and get stuck on my lips.

You stare at my mouth.

I must be imagining it.

It’s just for a split second, then you’re gone. A whirlwind in the corridor.

I imagined it.

But now, every time you leave, I can’t quite be as I was before.

Something has changed. Irrevocably.

And from then on I’m scared out of my mind.

I say Hi and wish it meant more to you than a hello.

How much can you convey within a two letter word?

I will my Hi to tell you how I’m doing.

I will my Hi to tell you about my days, even if there’s not much to tell.

And I will you to listen. Listen closely.

I’m not just saying Hi. Have you noticed?

_Do you notice me?_

When you say Hey back, it seems you’re saying more too. It’s like I know - about your sleepless nights, about the scars no one can see, about running high on adrenaline.

So much so that if you don’t have it, coursing through your veins, you might as well be dead.

‘Hi,’ I say. And I look up from my files.

Even if I have a deadline on my shoulders. Even if it’s late and I haven’t moved for hours.

‘Hey,’ you reply and now the smile is always there.

Even when you’re too tired to talk to anyone else. Even when you’ve failed and you don’t have any reason to smile.

But still, you do.

‘Hi,’ I say.

You say Hey.

I leave you standing there. I feel your eyes on my back, on my legs - as I walk away. But you only said Hey. I only said Hi.

The fault is in your eyes.

And in mine, because mine can’t leave you too.

Everytime you turn I can’t stop my eyes following. You’re disheveled, hard, strong, but so completely unaware of the effect you have. It makes me desperate to have you.

I’m so desperate I try to have someone else.

Someone who looks like you. But he’s so bland. Nothing like you after all.

I wonder if you have someone to keep your bed warm.

People would probably line up for it.

But a Hi can’t ask that, can it?

And a Hey couldn’t answer it.

One day you’re gushing blood from your brow. Spells don’t seem to work on it.

You keep fighting the dark, but you’re the one becoming darker.

No one seems to notice.

They probably think you’re immortal, so why do you look so human to me?

That day I hesitate. Hi, doesn’t quite seem to fit.

But then you look at me and say Hey. Your lips twist, it’s not your usual smile. You’re in pain. I want to ask you if you need anything, instead I say: Hi.

You nod. Blood trails from your brow, down your cheek.

You linger.

Your eyes _linger_ on mine. Intensely green. I feel like I can’t breathe.

Then you leave.

My voice starts to catch on my throat at every Hi.

Your voice sounds different in every Hey.

And I can’t quite put my finger on it.

It’s like...

Like you’ve run a mile to get to this empty corridor.

But there’s no else here but me.

And you can’t have come for me.

You don’t need anything from me.

All the paperwork is in order and we both know it.

We never talk.

I say Hi but what I mean is: _I wish you’d talk to me._

You say Hey and your eyes travel along my chest, as if pulled down. I struggle to catch my breath. Something flicks in the green. But it’s not just a hello. It’s something more.

_What comes after that hey of yours?_

I never get an answer.

Because I never actually ask.

So I wait for the next one.

Your next Hey.

We’re at a Ministry function when it comes.

You say Hey and what I hear is: _god, you look good._

I say “Hi” and what I want to say is: _will you ask me out?_

I wish you would, because I never could.

That night, your eyes stay on me. Three long, excruciating hours.

And I can’t deny them anymore.

There’s wine and people and boring conversations to be had.

But I can’t be aware of anything else.

Later that night we’re alone on a balcony under the stars.

You’ve already said Hey. I’ve already said Hi.

So you say it again.

And this time I laugh.

My hand catches on the railing and I’m laughing out loud, helplessly, my eyes bursting with sudden tears, my body trembling under the onslaught.

And you’re laughing too, your chest shaking with the force of it.

I try to catch my breath to speak.

Hi, I say back and what I mean is: _I wish you’d just fuck me._

I stare back at you.

‘Kiss me,’ I say.

I just can’t believe myself.

I said it.

And you do.

You grab my waist and open my mouth with yours.

The world shifts.

I think of the power invested in words.

I think of the power of your hands on me.

We break apart after a long time.

You smile into my mouth.

You say Hey, but what you mean is: _I want you. Let me in._

I say Hi back, and what I mean is: _you’re already here._

**Author's Note:**

> If this meant anything to you, please share your thoughts and feelings with me. Thank you for reading!


End file.
